


I Don't Mind if They See It All

by Transom (ThegoodshipRickyl)



Series: Clash Slash Trash [2]
Category: The Clash
Genre: Confident!Mick, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, Shy!Joey, Teenage AU, background Paul/Topper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6380434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThegoodshipRickyl/pseuds/Transom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why shouldn't I get a crush on you??</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Mind if They See It All

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is just ridiculous fluff with the boys in school as adorable little dumb, dorky teenagers. Title taken from "1-2 Crush on You", which I must admit greatly inspired this fic.
> 
> (P.S. - I don't know how this got so bloody long)

Mick knew as soon as he saw the new boy at school that he would be his. His name was Joe, and he had dark curly hair that he wore like Eddie Cochran, pointy ears like an elf, and a shy but mischievous grin that warmed Mick's heart and made it beat a little faster. He was smart, too - good at History and English - and quite funny in a goofy, oddball sort of way. Mick was quickly taken with him and every day he looked forward to the few classes they had together.

 

Joe was a little too shy to make tons of friends right away, so Mick jumped at the opportunity to sit by him in class, and Joe would smile at him from his desk every time he walked in, which was sometimes just when the bell rang, but quite often well after it. Every time their teacher would glare at Mick for being tardy, Joe would just nudge him and they would share an amused grin.

 

"One of these days you're gonna make his head pop off," Joe whispered, looking up towards their Current Events teacher, Mr Rhodes.

 

"Let's 'ope for that," was Mick's reply. "It's getting too big to fit through the bloody door." Joe giggled, trying to stifle it with his sleeve as Mr Rhodes shot a glare their way.

 

They did quieten down though, as soon as Mr Rhodes began his lecture. Both of them considered his class to be one of their favorites, enjoying the freedom they were given to learn on their own and arrive at their own conclusions about political concerns all over the world. Their other reasons to enjoy the class were sitting right behind them, in the form of two boys named Topper and Paul, the biggest class clowns they knew. The two were inseparable and always in trouble, and had quickly become friends with Joe and Mick as well, especially because Mick and Paul had already known each other for some time. And although they seemed to be more interested in playing lowbrow schoolboy pranks (such as hitting Joe and Mick in the back of their heads with paper wads and bits of eraser), they were just as smart as anyone, they just didn't always like to show it.

 

"Oi! Jonesy!" Paul half-whispered, half-yelled, and both Joe and Mick turned from their books to look back at him.

 

Paul was leaning over his desk, his tall, lanky frame nearly allowing him to put his head even with Joe's. "What are you two doing later?" he asked, words muffled around the end of the pencil he was chewing on.

 

"Dunno," Joe said, shrugging and turning back to his work. " _You_ tell _us_."

 

"Me 'n' Tops are goin' down the pitch for a kick around. What say you?"

 

"I'm in," was Mick's quick reply, as he was always eager for football, especially with friends. A little worried, though, he looked over at Joe in hopes that he would agree, as Mick was keen to spend some time with him outside of school, maybe get to know him properly.

 

Luckily, Joe seemed eager, if a little unsure. "If you lot will have me."

 

Mick's grin was reflected in Joe's as he said, "Course we will!" And when Joe blushed and ducked his head, Mick just knew he would be unable to concentrate in any of his classes the rest of the long, long day.

 

******

 

Playing football with Joe, Topper, and Paul became a post-school tradition for Mick after that, or at least on any day they could all get together for it. Paul had _two_ paper rounds, Topper was with an _official_ football club, and Joe's parents weren't always keen on their son being out all day, especially with the "crowd he had fallen into", which Mick understood to be middle-class code for "those uncouth working class boys".

 

On those days when everyone was elsewhere, Mick would usually spend all day practicing his guitar, or listening to records or reading magazines about music, wondering to himself if Joe was doing the same thing, or if he was even as into music as Mick was. He knew Paul liked reggae and David Bowie, and that Topper was a really good drummer who listened to just about everything, but Joe hadn't mentioned anything about it.

 

He knew Joe liked to draw, though. He was always doodling in the margins of his school papers and sometimes on his desk or even his own skin, if he had a pen. One day, Mick noticed the approximation of the Rolling Stones logo on his maths homework and couldn't stop himself from blurting, "Oh, you like them?" startling the poor boy from his state of concentration.

 

"What? Oh, yeah," he said when Mick pointed to his drawing, and looked sheepish. "I love 'em," he said earnestly.

 

"Same 'ere," Mick said. "I try to play all their songs, but I ain't really good enough yet."

 

Joe's brow furrowed. "What do you play?"

 

It was Mick's turn to look sheepish. "Guitar."

 

"Really?" Joe looked suddenly fascinated by Mick, algebra completely forgotten. "So do I."

 

"Really?" Mick said, just as excited as Joe was.

 

"Well, yeah." Joe rubbed the back of his neck. "I ain't good at it, though. I can either play all six strings at once or none at all."

 

Mick grinned. "It's a start." Suddenly an idea came to him. "Hey, do you think Paul can pick up bass?"

 

Joe shrugged. "That's only four strings," he said, with the hint of a grin like he knew where Mick was heading.

 

"Paul doesn't even have to _sound_ any good," Mick pointed out. "He just needs to _look_ as good as he does already."

 

Joe's face clouded almost imperceptibly. "Oh," he said quietly. "Uh, yeah." Mick gave him a confused look as Joe refocused on his textbook and resumed writing.

 

Mick pressed on anyway. "So... do you wanna come over sometime? Maybe practice a bit together?" He mentally crossed his fingers as Joe chewed his lip and continued to look down at his book.

 

"Erm," he began, tapping his pencil. "My parents might go a bit weird..."

 

Mick's heart sank and he was about to say "Never mind," and leave it at that, but then he caught Joe looking sidelong at him and felt a hopeful flutter in his chest.

 

"I'll try, okay?" Joe said, voice small. "Cos I'd really like to. Y'know."

 

"Yeah," Mick said, a little breathless. Joe's returning smile was somewhat wan, but if Mick didn't notice it was because he was too busy imagining getting to finally spend time with Joe alone, doing something they both loved.

 

******

 

It was a couple weeks before Joe could finally get to go to Mick's house after school, and they were walking along the sidewalk, when they heard a gang of boys they knew from school laughing and carrying on behind them. Mick was prepared to ignore them until one of the group, a particularly loud boy named Kosmo, ran up to them and put his arms around both of their shoulders.

 

"Jonesy! Joey! Lads! How are ya?"

 

Mick threw an irritated glance at him and tried to shrug him off, but he wasn't going anywhere. Joe was grinning to himself and this only annoyed Mick further, until he said, in a huff, "What do you want, _huh_?"

 

"I just wanted to greet my mate Joe here," he said innocently, gripping Joe's shoulders with both hands and giving him a little shake.

 

"Hullo Kosmo," Joe said, his voice tired in a good-natured way.

 

"Looking good, Joe, looking good." He turned to Mick. "Now, you. I need to talk to _you_."

 

Mick sighed and stopped walking. "Right now? It can't wait?"

 

"'Fraid not, old boy."

 

"Guess that means I better get going, eh?" Joe said, a little dejectedly.

 

Mick shot him an apologetic look, but Kosmo butted in before he could say anything. "There's a lovely little bench over there with your name on it," he said, pointing. "If you would be so kind."

 

Joe shrugged, still looking amused but a little annoyed, and trudged over to the bench that was just about twenty feet away. As soon as he was out of earshot, Kosmo took Mick by the shoulder and turned him so their backs were facing Joe.

 

"What is this about?" Mick sighed, glancing back at Joe worriedly.

 

"I've just been thinking," Kosmo said, without any further preamble. "About you. And ickle Joey over there."

 

Mick felt a prickle of defensiveness. "Yeah? What of it?"

 

"You're not exactly... _subtle_ , eh, Micky?" Kosmo shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "It seems you've sunk your claws into 'im and the poor lamb hasn't even been 'ere two months."

 

Mick deflated. "And you don't think he fancies me back?"

 

Kosmo shook his head. "Actually, I think you need to just come _out_ with it. Joe is, shall we say, a tender soul. If you keep him danglin' like this, he'll just...I dunno, fade away or something."

 

Mick regarded him skeptically. "I thought you said I wasn't being subtle?"

 

"Well, not to _me_ you 'aven't been." Kosmo touched the tip of his nose with his finger and winked, before backing away from Mick with a mysterious expression. "Just think about it, yeah?" he yelled as he trotted off to rejoin his gang, who were now milling about in front of a post office, just leaning on the handrails and sitting on the steps.

 

Mick watched him go, feeling confused and shaking his head clear before walking back to Joe. He had a notebook on his lap that Mick could just get a glance at before he closed it and shoved it under his arm with the rest of his schoolbooks.

 

"What was all that?" Joe asked as he stood up and fell in step with Mick.

 

Mick felt himself blush but he didn't see the point of lying. "He wanted to talk to me about you."

 

"Huh?"

 

Mick took a deep breath and steeled himself for the plunge. "He thinks I haven't been honest enough with you."

 

"Oh," Joe said, walking slower and tightly gripping the strap of his bag. "It's okay, Mick, really. I understand." He stopped walking and looked at the ground. "Look, we don't have to do this, if it feels weird...I can just go home?"

 

Mick just stared at him. "You already know?"

 

Joe gave him a strange look. "Yeah? Why wouldn't I?"

 

Mick ran a hand through his hair. "Well," he sputtered, "Kosmo said I was being too obvious, but only to everyone but _you_."

 

" _You_ were being obvious? I thought you were talking about _me_." Joe laughed, slightly puzzled. "This is strange, innit?"

 

"Yeah. But I think we both just came clean to each other," Mick agreed as they approached the looming tower block where he lived. Mick led him through the corridors and up the stairs to the flat he shared with his gran. His heart was beating excitedly now, and he had to steal a glance back at Joe as he unlocked the door, fumbling with the key when Joe blushed and ducked his head, hiding his smile.

 

"My gran'll be back later from the doctor's," he told Joe as he opened the door.

 

"Oh yeah?" Joe said absently as he took in the small space before following Mick to his room.

 

"Yeah." Mick took a deep breath. "Well... here it is. Record player, records, guitar. That's about it, really."

 

Joe nodded appreciatively. Mick gestured for him to sit on the bed, which he did, a little awkward, as Mick pulled up his chair.

 

Joe sat there, chewing his thumbnail and looking at Mick expectantly, so Mick sighed and stretched out his legs in front of him.

 

"I guess we can't pretend anymore, huh?" he said wryly. "Unless you really just wanna listen to records?"

 

Joe's blush stained his face and crept down his neck. Mick grinned but nudged Joe's foot with his own just in case. "We can do whatever you want, Joe," he amended gently.

 

Joe waved his hand, embarrassed. "It's not that I don't wanna," he spluttered quickly, "it's just that I...I ain't never...."

 

Mick's brows knit together in confusion. "Really?" he blurted without thinking. Then he smacked his forehead and tried to explain, "I mean, that's weird and all, 'cos it's _you_ , y'know..."

 

Joe studied him with curious eyes. "You think it's weird?"

 

"Well, yeah." Mick was blushing now. "I mean, you're pretty fantastic, _Joey Mellor_."

 

Joe kicked his shin halfheartedly, rolling his eyes and turning red as a tomato. "You've like... _properly_ kissed people, though, right?"

 

Mick nodded. "A few." He blushed and shrugged. "Girls and boys. My first was Paul, actually, but we were like twelve."

 

Joe smirked. "I thought you fancied _him_ , y'know, before... all this."

 

"I mean, I _like_ 'im, sure," Mick shrugged. "But not how I like _you_."

 

Joe hunched his shoulders forward. He looked like he wanted to say something but it couldn't force it out, so Mick leaned forward and touched his knee gently. "Can I kiss you now, Joe?" he said softly. "'Cos I'd really like to be your first."

 

Joe met his eyes timidly. "Me too," he whispered.

 

The hand that was touching his knee slid up to his thigh and Mick's other hand came up to slip through his hair and pull him closer, slowly, until their lips met and Joe inhaled with a tiny surprised noise that made Mick's heart leap. After a moment with their lips pressed together lightly, he had to break away, just to prove to himself that he _could_ , because Joe's skin was so warm, and his lips felt so good, but he was also acutely aware of Joe's inexperience and nerves, so he backed off a little, just keeping his leg pressed up against the inside of Joe's.

 

Joe was wearing a faint grin and looking down at his hands. His blush hadn't subsided and in fact it deepened with the next thing he said.

 

"You've done more than just kiss, though, haven't you?"

 

Mick squirmed a little in his chair. "I may've done, yeah," he admitted. "That alright?"

 

Joe shrugged. "I don't mind. I just hope you don't mind how behind _I_ am."

 

"'Course I don't." He leaned forward to get back in Joe's space. "Just means I get to show you everything, yeah? I get to be the first for everything."

 

" _Everything_? You really want that? With me?"

 

Mick took Joe's face in his hands. "Whatever you'll give me, okay? Whatever you want."

 

Joe grinned. "I want you to kiss me again," he muttered, blushing, and Mick happily obliged, pulling him in to do just that. This time Joe sank into it more, scooting to the edge of the bed to shyly put his hands on top of Mick's legs as Mick pulled him in by the neck to deepen the kiss, feeling Joe's small moans against his mouth.

 

"Mmph," was the rather inelegant noise that Mick uttered when he realized he shouldn't push too far and let Joe go again, his hair slightly mussed and his lips beginning to redden. Mick had to tear his eyes away from the sight of him, with that shy smile and those pink-tinged cheeks, so he got up and headed to his record collection to find something to put on while Joe moved to lean against the wall, kicking his shoes off so he could pull his feet up onto the bed.

 

Mick put on a Stooges record and took his guitar off its stand. He sat on the bed next to Joe and held the guitar carefully in his lap, lifting it a little so it caught the light.

 

"Show off," Joe scoffed, but he couldn't completely hide his interest and looked up at Mick. "That's in really good nick," he complimented. "You shouldn't ever see mine, you might break down in tears."

 

"What kind is yours?"

 

"Tele." He looked down a bit sheepishly. "I had to learn on a regular right-handed one though."

 

"Why didn't you just flip it 'round, like Hendrix?" Mick asked teasingly.

 

Joe shook his head. "I _told_ you, I ain't that _advanced_."

 

"I'm sure you're plenty good." They fell comfortably silent after that, just listening to the music for a while until something occurred to Mick.

 

"We did this all backwards, didn't we?" he mused. "I'm supposed to play you a really good song, to impress you and that, then do all the boyfriend-kissing stuff."

 

Joe's face fell. "Oh. Well, I never claimed to know what I was doing...."

 

Joe looked downcast so Mick put his arm around his shoulders and tugged him close. "Only joking," he said, before kissing Joe's cheek fondly. He pulled back a little bit to study him and saw the trepidation in his eyes.

 

"You don't have to worry," he promised. He took Joe's chin and gently turned his head to kiss him again, slower, tasting him and feeling his pulse pound against his hand where it was cupping his neck carefully. Joe kissed back like he was eager for more, his hands coming to rest on Mick's waist and trying to pull him in, so Mick had to gently slide his guitar off his lap and let Joe drag him down on top of him. Mick's head was starting to spin, with Joe pressed between him and the mattress, just the two of them trading warm, lazy kisses and equally heated touches. Mick quickly fell in love with how responsive Joe was, his throaty groans and little sighs, and the way he squirmed with pleasure under Mick's hands and tried to press them even closer together though it was impossible.

 

If it hadn't been for fear of the safety of his guitar, Mick would have kept kissing him like that forever, but he eventually slowed their pace down enough that he could break away without a potentially embarrassing whimper, leaving Joe to prop himself up on his elbows to watch him rescue the guitar. When Mick looked back at him, he quickly averted his gaze, a deep flush painting his cheeks. Mick waited until the nearly-forgotten record they had been listening to finished its side, then flipped it and rejoined Joe on the bed, lying on his stomach beside him and stealing a quick kiss to his forehead.

 

Joe ran a hand through his hair, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Um, so.... That was alright then?"

 

Mick laughed and took Joe's hand. "You have no _idea_ , do you?"

 

Joe stiffened. "I...er...-"

 

" _Relax_ ," Mick said, "I meant, you have no idea how utterly _brilliant_ you are."

 

"Oh. You think so, really?"

 

Mick rolled his eyes and got up so that he was partially lying on Joe. "Do I need to remind you?" he asked, leaning in for a feather-light, teasing kiss.

 

He leaned back and Joe shook his head, a pleased smile gracing his lips that Mick wanted to see every day for the rest of his life. He closed his eyes to memorize it and simply didn't feel like opening them again, preferring to lie next to Joe and just drift away. He was happy when Joe apparently got the same feeling, lying back and throwing an arm over his eyes.

 

By the time they were found an hour later by Mick's gran, Joe was snuggled into Mick's side like a big cat and Mick had an arm around him possessively, and didn't wake up until the smell of dinner drifted through the open door, much to Joe's embarrassment, though any apologies he tried to stutter out were firmly kissed away by Mick. And after dinner, when he went back home, Mick made sure with the kiss he gave him that he would be the only thing on his mind until school the next day.

 

******

 

Mick made a promise to himself on his way to school the next morning: Keep his hands to himself even if it killed him. He knew Joe probably wouldn't appreciate public displays of affection, especially in front of the other boys. And then there was the thorny issue of whether to tell anybody.

 

Paul and Topper seemed to know something was up immediately. Joe and Mick barely acknowledged each other in Mr Rhodes' class save for a small smile and a blush on Joe's part as he played with his pencil and looked down at his desk. Mick then made the mistake of glancing back at Paul and Topper and saw them smirk and exchange knowing looks. He just rolled his eyes in response, figuring he had two less people to bother with telling.

 

On their lunch break the four of them gathered outside on the bench by the drinking fountain, Paul, Joe, and Topper sitting together on the small bench and Mick standing next to them, his fingers itching for a cigarette. Paul, who was nearest to him, poked him in the upper leg to get his attention.

 

"You need to sit next to your _boyfriend_ here?" he teased, jerking his thumb at Joe, who was squished between him and Topper.

 

"Piss off," he muttered, kicking his heel back against the brick wall.

 

"Look, mate," Paul said exasperatedly, "we don't _care_ , alright? And if anyone else has anything to say, we'll take care of them, eh, Tops?"

 

Topper grunted an affirmative, but was distracted by picking at something on his shoe. Mick looked back to Paul and gave him a genuine smile. "You mean that?"

 

Paul looked sheepish but nodded. "Yeah, Mick. I do."

 

That was it then. Mick breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Paul," he said warmly.

 

Topper broke the peaceful moment by slapping his legs with his hands. "Well, thank _God_ that's sorted!" he exclaimed. "Paul, fancy going back to the bathroom for a snog?"

 

Paul burst out laughing as he got up, leaving a slack jawed Mick and Joe. "You lot are welcome to join us," he added, grinning wickedly before following after Topper.

 

Joe was giggling into his fist as Mick sat down beside him. "Am I missing something?"

 

Joe pulled his leg up onto the bench, bringing his knee up so he could rest his chin on it. "Apparently," he told Mick. He looked down, suddenly fascinated by his fingernails. "I, uh, already told Topper earlier, in our History class. I know, I never asked if that would be okay, I just... I couldn't keep it in, y'know?"

 

Mick's heart thudded a little. Joe was that excited about them getting together? He had to gather his thoughts to speak. "Joe, I... of course I don't mind! I wanted to tell everyone I met this morning, strangers on the street, y'know? I just wasn't sure if you would be...ashamed, or whatever."

 

Joe looked him in the eye, serious. "I ain't ashamed. And I don't think we should be made to hide it either."

 

Mick nodded. "Good." He paused, blushing. "Does that mean I can kiss you, here?"

 

Joe looked around, his eyes going to every crowd of students that was out there with them. "I dunno," he mumbled, "I guess."

 

Mick leaned in to press a quick kiss to his temple, pulling back without looking around at anyone's possible reaction. Joe looked, but soon he was focused back on Mick. Mick took his hand and scooted a little closer, trying to let him know without saying it that it was just the two of them.

 

******

 

Joe began visiting Mick at his gran's flat at every opportunity. Hanging out with Joe felt so natural, so easy, and Mick could hardly stand when he left each night. Joe would stand in his doorway with his hand rubbing his opposite arm and look at Mick like a dejected puppy. Mick would kiss him, slower and longer each time, and send him on his way, though what he really wanted to do was drag him back into his bedroom and kiss him until they fell asleep and then skip school the next morning in favor of lying in bed all day listening to records.

 

Then one day Joe met Mick outside the boy's bathrooms after all of their separate before-lunch classes were through. He was practically bouncing on his toes and his eyes were bright when he looked at Mick with a warm grin.

 

"Hey," he said softly when Mick took his hand and kissed his forehead before they took off in step towards the cafeteria. If a few other students gave them weird looks, they were steadfastly ignored, especially as Paul and Topper came out of the bathroom together and fell in a few steps behind them.

 

"You look chipper today," Mick commented, letting go of his hand to put his grammar textbook in his bag with the others.

 

Joe nodded and grinned again. "I been waitin' all morning to tell you..." he began, voice strained with an eager nervousness. "My parents said I could stay the night at your place as long as it's not a weeknight. So, I suppose that means tonight, 'cos it's Friday and all..." He trailed off, trying to gauge Mick's reaction.

 

Mick bravely tried to hold in his excitement. His stomach flipped as he looked at Joe, whose hair he thought looked particularly good that day and whose shy grin was more alluring and sweet than ever. "I..." he stuttered out, flustered and aware that Joe was hanging on his every word. "I think that's fantastic, Joe," he said warmly.

 

"Yeah?" Joe let out a breath and they took a seat together at their usual table in the corner, Paul and Topper shortly behind them and again exchanging amused looks.

 

Neither Mick nor Joe said anything about it after that, just shared a knowing smile before Topper asked Mick about something football related and Joe and Paul fell into a conversation about the latest war film they were eager to go see. Soon they were all four chatting about music and movies and food and football and the butterflies in Mick's stomach subsided enough for him to eat lunch, though he had the feeling they would erupt again as soon as the end of school bell went off that afternoon.

 

 

The four friends reconvened again after school, but soon parted into their usual pairs, with Paul and Topper going off to the local cinema and Joe making the now-familiar walk to Mick's flat alongside him. Mick cleared his throat and adjusted his book bag over his shoulder awkwardly. "So, uh, do your parents... do they know? About _us_ , I mean?"

 

A flush rose to Joe's cheeks. "I haven't told 'em."

 

Mick frowned. "They wouldn't approve?"

 

"I dunno." Joe looked helpless. "You never can tell, I reckon." He paused, chewing on his lip nervously. "I don't really wanna take the chance though, y'know? Like, what if they say we can't see each other anymore?"

 

Mick's heart thudded at the thought. "It shouldn't be that hard to keep it from them," he mused quietly. He couldn't think of anything more to say and Joe seemed satisfied, so they walked in comfortable silence the rest of the way.

 

After depositing their school books and getting a bite to eat, Mick searched his mind for something they could do in the long hours that followed before night time. He had homework, so did Joe, he knew, but that was a decidedly unappealing option.

 

"We shoulda gone with Paul and Topper," he thought out loud as he finished his lunch and pushed back from the small kitchen table.

 

Joe snorted. "Yeah, and listen to them suck each other's faces off through a whole film? No thanks."

 

Mick smirked. "We couldn't just do the same thing?" he asked innocently.

 

"Berk," Joe said, blushing, and got up to go to Mick's bedroom, bopping him on the head as he passed. "What's on telly?"

 

"Psh, probably nothing interesting."

 

Mick got up to follow him and found him flipping through one of his comic books, looking exceedingly bored. He leaned against the doorway and looked down at Joe, who was lying with his legs dangling off the bed and his head against the wall, his chin tucked into his chest.

 

Mick climbed into the bed beside him. "Be careful with that one," he warned, pointing at the comic. "It's still mint."

 

Joe rolled his eyes and tossed it onto Mick's dresser. "I don't think I own _anything_ that can be described as 'mint'," he sneered good-naturedly.

 

Mick wanted to kiss him, to wipe that look of derision off his face, but he knew that if he started he wouldn't be able to stop, so he pushed himself off the bed and went to get his shoes. "Let's get out of here, yeah?"

 

Joe was behind him quickly, not even asking where they were going. They ended up at the cinema, where Paul and Topper were apparently long gone, and went in for some cheap action flick set in a country they had only ever read about. Their eyes stayed glued to the screen, but Mick didn't feel bad about the lack of attention; he knew Joe didn't like to be bothered when he got drawn in to a movie.

 

When they got out it was nearly dark, and the walk home took care of the remaining shreds of daylight. A siren wailed, far away, and Mick and Joe walked shoulder to shoulder through the barely-lit streets and back up to the high-rise, where they snuck in without waking Mick's gran, who had left a note saying that there were leftovers in the oven.

 

With their stomachs full once again, they retreated into Mick's bedroom, where Joe chose a Hendrix record and played it softly before joining Mick on the bed and stretching out next to him. Mick's bedside lamp gave a warm glow and threw shadows over their bodies, so close now that Mick's heart beat a little faster.

 

Joe licked his lips and looked down the at the sheet, where his finger traced a pattern only he could discern. "So..." he began, nearly whispering, "I'd like to kiss you now, if you wouldn't mind?"

 

Mick couldn't hold back a laugh. "I've been waiting all _day_ , Joe. I needed you to kiss me, like, an _hour_ ago."

 

Joe ducked his head and chuckled before meeting Mick's lips with a long-held sigh. His hand made its way to Mick's side and just held him there, until they broke apart and he let out an almost imperceptibly shaky breath.

 

Mick's brow furrowed. "Something wrong?"

 

Joe cleared his throat and leaned away from him, barely an inch, but it felt like a mile. "I'm fine," he mumbled, reaching for Mick and kissing him again without hesitation, pressing their lips together far less naturally and comfortably than the first time.

 

Mick grunted and pushed him away gently. "No, you're not," he said sternly and sat back with his elbows propping him up.

 

Joe chewed his lip before bringing his thumb up to chew the nail of it instead. "I dunno," he whispered.

 

" _Joe_ ," Mick sighed, exasperated. "What are you worried about?"

 

He shrugged in response, looking embarrassed. "I just want to be _sure_..." he said, sounding anything but. "I don't want to rush, is all. Just because I'm here, spending the night, doesn't mean... It doesn't mean...you know."

 

"Relax," Mick soothed, stroking his arm. "I already knew that. I thought you knew, too. I'm only gonna go as far as you wanna go."

 

Joe nodded, and blushed crimson. "I know. I just don't know, how far I wanna go yet. I mean..." he trailed off again, going impossibly redder, "I think I want that with you, but..."

 

Mick's heart felt like it was being squeezed by a huge, strong hand. "Do you?"

 

"I..." Joe choked out, hiding his face in his hands. "Yes?" he squeaked, muffled by his palms.

 

Mick didn't mean to laugh, but he made up for it by taking Joe's wrists in his hands softly. "Well that's good," he said reassuringly. "Because I _know_ I want that with you."

 

Joe groaned. "Really?"

 

"Er, yeah?" Mick was baffled. "I been thinkin' about it for a _while_ , actually." He felt his own cheeks heating up. "Sorry. That probably makes you feel kinda weird, huh?"

 

Joe was so red Mick thought he would set fire at any moment. "A bit," he admitted, looking away from Mick. He studied his fingernails for a few excruciating moments before speaking up again, painfully quiet, "So... are you thinking about it... tonight?"

 

"Uh, if _you_ are," Mick spluttered, so nervous and sure that he was saying all the wrong things.

"Oh. Er, really?" Joe looked away again and Mick was kicking himself for making everything go so weird.

 

Joe interrupted his parade of thoughts. "I just... I ain't sure if I'm ready yet, y'know? For more." He scooted over to the wall and sat with his knees tucked up to his chest.

 

Mick nodded. "That's okay."

 

"Is it? Or is it a huge fucking disappointment?"

 

"No!" Mick insisted, reaching out to take his knee. But Joe wouldn't look at him even when he squeezed it reassuringly.

 

"I've gone and fucked it all up," he mumbled into his chest. "'m sorry."

 

" _Joe_ ," Mick intoned, "We don't _have_ to. Of _course_."

 

Joe peeked up at him through his eyelashes. "Really?" he asked, sounding unconvinced.

 

"Yes!" Mick got up to sit next to him. "Why would you think otherwise?"

 

Joe shrugged and tucked his knees in closer. "I dunno, I just thought...you've already done all this stuff. You probably don't wanna wait on me, 'cos I'm such an _idiot_. I have no idea what I'm _doing_."

 

"You're doing great," Mick assured him desperately. "I love being with you. I love just sitting here with you." He blushed lightly and added, "And I love kissing you, too. I could do _that_ forever. Just that."

 

"I like it too," Joe admitted, still red as a beet. "Do you... wanna do _just_ that, or did I completely destroy the mood?" He managed a watery smile as he looked at Mick bashfully.

 

Mick took him in his arms and guided him back down to the bed. He answered with his lips on Joe's and his hands on Joe's shoulders, their chests together but the rest of Mick's body off to the side. Joe was almost worryingly warm, and Mick made sure to go as slow as possible, just enough pressure to let Joe know how much he was wanted but also how much he was respected, and Joe's heart slowed to a steady, easy rhythm under Mick's hand. They kissed for what seemed like hours, but it was only a few minutes before the record's side ended and Mick pulled away carefully.

 

"Let me go turn that," he said, tearing himself away from Joe and flipping the record before getting back in his bed and vowing never to leave again.

 

Joe was studying him, a hint of trepidation in his eyes. "Mick, I.... I'd like to... well, I'd like _you_ to, actually..." he seemed to lose steam and sputtered out, giving up in favor of just pressing their lips together again. This time, though, Mick felt Joe's hands creep to his waist, where they hesitated at the hem of his shirt. Mick was loathe to break their kiss, so he just scooted closer to Joe and moaned his encouragement, hoping he would get the hint.

 

Thankfully, he did, and the next thing Mick felt was Joe's hands on his bare skin, spreading over the warm expanse that was completely new to his fingers. Mick's head spun at the thought that he was the first person Joe had ever touched like this, and he was eager to be the first person to ever touch _him_ that way. He broke their kiss just long enough to pull his own shirt over his head before cautiously asking with his eyes and hands if he could do the same for Joe.

 

Joe gave the tiniest of nods and let Mick quickly undress him. His chest was nearly as red as his face, warm to the touch when Mick cautiously put his hands on him. When they were kissing again, he pulled him in closer until they were skin to skin, so much contact he briefly worried if it would be too much, overwhelming in a bad way, but Joe just moaned against Mick's mouth, and his hands were just as eagerly exploring Mick's back. Their kisses were truly heated now, and Mick fought the fog taking over his brain, trying to keep in mind Joe's state, his nerves, and his stopping point.

 

It came all too soon for Mick, when Joe's hands stilled and he let out a worried whimper before breaking away from Mick's lips to suck in a deep breath. Mick rolled off of him immediately, concern breaking through the fuzz of simmering arousal that Joe had innocently left him with.

 

Everything cooled off eventually, but Joe looked at Mick, apologetic. Mick shook his head and pressed a soft kiss against his bare chest. "Shhh," he comforted him. "We can go slow again, alright?"

 

Joe nodded, his eyes slipping closed when Mick went back up to capture his lips again, not trying to ignite a flame but just keeping everything on the hotter side of warm, all swollen lips and careful fingers, soft sighs and gently bumping noses. The record played out and they were still sharing their quiet embrace, slower now as the lack of music took away any urgency that had lingered in the first place. Mick's eyelids felt heavy, but he couldn't stop kissing Joe, now exploring his throat and the sensitive spot where his shoulder met his neck with deliberate interest. He reached around to tease at the nape of Joe's neck with his fingertips, earning a breathless moan that seemed to signal the beginning of the end.

 

Joe sunk into Mick's touch as he wrapped his arms around him and held him close, their faces barely apart and their lips begging to be kissed some more though it was growing nearly painful. Mick reached for a distraction, switching on the radio on his nightstand. It was in the middle of a Bowie song and Joe smiled when Mick hummed against his forehead and buried his fingers in his hair. The song ended and left them both nearly asleep, floating away while tied together.

******

The morning that followed saw Mick with his arm around Joe and Joe's head on his chest, both of them taking their time with waking up. Everything felt so warm, and soft, and so _easy_ , and Mick couldn't help but stare at Joe's sleepy form, amazed that he could be so lucky.

 

Joe must have felt the weight of his watching, as he looked up at him sheepishly. "Morning," he mumbled. "'ope I didn't drool all over ya."

 

Mick shrugged and turned slightly to be closer to him. "I wouldn't've minded," he said, feeling foolish even as he spoke.

 

He got an eyeroll in response along with a playful shove, but then, as if in apology, Joe scooted up to a sitting position where he could run his fingers through Mick's hair, almost putting them both back to sleep.

 

"Joe?" Mick's soft voice floated up to him. He grunted sleepily and Mick tried to sit up, but couldn't sacrifice the warmth of his bed as long as Joe was still touching him, pinning him down with just his fingertips. "Joe, we've got to get _up_ ," he moaned. "Kosmo, Paul, Topper. They'll wonder what happened to us."

 

"Do we care?" Joe muttered, but he stilled his hand and moved it to his lap.

 

Mick heard the self-consciousness under the bravado in Joe's voice. "'Course I don't _care_ ," he reassured him. He grabbed Joe's knee and squeezed before pulling him in for an awkward hug which turned into more of a rugby tackle as he pushed Joe back down to the bed. "I just thought, you know, that maybe you might like to actually _do_ something today? _Instead_ of hogging my blanket," he added, teasing, while yanking it away from a blushing Joe.

 

"I'm cold," he grumbled. "I'm missing my shirt."

 

Mick reached behind his head, fumbling for the shirts they had discarded the night before. Joe slipped his on with a slightly grumpy expression that softened as soon as Mick got on his hands and knees and climbed on top of him, leaning down for a soft kiss before continuing to the edge of the bed. Joe followed him and they sat, shoulder to shoulder, bare feet on the threadbare carpet.

 

Joe sniffed and rubbed his nose while Mick yawned and stretched his arms back, tempted to just fall back onto the bed. He rocked up to his feet instead, stretched some more, then turned back to Joe.

 

"You hungry?"

 

Joe shrugged, joined Mick in standing, and checked his pockets. "I don't have much."

 

Mick shrugged. "Neither do I." He headed for the door, pausing to make sure Joe was following him. "Come on," he coaxed. "It don't take money to walk to Paul's house, does it?"

 

"I s'pose not," Joe mumbled, bending down to pick up his shoes. Mick checked his hair in the mirror, hoping it still looked like Joe's hands had been in it.

 

When Joe was ready, they left and greeted the cool, late morning air outside. Joe blinked in the sunlight and bumped against Mick's upper arm with his shoulder. Mick smiled at him as they walked, easy down the sidewalk with matching steps, nobody else in their path.


End file.
